Chapter 3 — The Locked Supply Room
Chapter 3 — The Locked Supply Room
The room smelled like cardboard, antiseptic, and fear.
I could hear Nathan outside.
“Leah?”
His voice was gentle.
Too gentle.
That was what frightened me most.
For years, Nathan had used that voice whenever he wanted me to stop asking questions.
“Leah, sweetheart, open the door.”
I looked at Mae.
She stood between me and the door, one hand pressed against the lock.
“Don't answer him.”
My son slept in the bassinet beside me.
His tiny chest rose and fell beneath the pale blue blanket.
I stared at him.
Then at the door.
“Mae…”
“Yes?”
“They're really going to take him.”
She didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
The silence was enough.
Nathan knocked again.
“Leah, I know you're scared.”
My hands tightened around the blanket.
“I know this has been overwhelming.”
Mae shook her head.
I whispered:
“He sounds like he cares.”
“He wants you to open the door.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if he cared, he'd be calling the doctor.”
I looked at her.
She continued quietly.
“He'd be asking whether you're recovering. He'd be asking about your blood pressure. He'd be asking when you can see your baby.”
She pointed toward the door.
“He isn't asking any of that.”
Another knock.
“Leah?”
Nathan's voice cracked.
“Please.”
I nearly answered.
Then Doreen spoke.
“Let her calm down.”
I froze.
Nathan said:
“She'll listen to me.”
Doreen laughed softly.
“She always has.”
Something about those words made my stomach turn.
Mae pulled a small chair toward me.
“Sit.”
“I can't.”
“You just had surgery.”
“I need to get out.”
“No.”
“I need to protect my son.”
“And that's exactly why you need to stay in here.”
She crouched beside the bassinet.
“He's stable.”
I touched his tiny hand.
“What if they come inside?”
“They can't.”
“Why?”
Mae pointed upward.
“There is no electronic access to this room.”
I looked around.
“So it's hidden?”
“Exactly.”
“Why does a hospital have a secret room?”
Mae hesitated.
“Because sometimes hospitals have patients who need to disappear.”
I stared at her.
“From whom?”
“People who shouldn't be able to find them.”
A chill moved through me.
“Who built it?”
“Old administration.”
“And why do you know about it?”
She looked away.
“Because seven years ago, I put someone in here.”
“Who?”
Mae didn't answer.
Then she whispered:
“A mother.”
The story came out in pieces.
Seven years earlier, a woman named Rebecca Bell had delivered a baby girl.
Rebecca had been twenty-six.
Healthy.
Married.
No psychiatric history.
Forty-eight hours after delivery, she became confused.
Not because she was mentally ill.
Because someone had drugged her.
A hospital psychiatrist declared her unstable.
Her husband signed temporary guardianship.
The baby disappeared.
Rebecca was discharged to a private facility.
She never saw her daughter again.
“Who was her husband?” I asked.
Mae's eyes filled with tears.
“Caleb Bell.”
I stared at her.
“Sarah Bell's sister?”
Mae nodded.
“Rebecca was Sarah's sister.”
My heart sank.
“So Sarah wasn't telling me a story.”
“No.”
“She was warning me.”
“Yes.”
“Where is Rebecca now?”
Mae looked at the floor.
“Dead.”
I couldn't speak.
“How?”
“Overdose.”
“Was it suicide?”
Mae shook her head.
“No one ever proved that.”
I looked at my son.
“Did Doreen do it?”
Mae's expression hardened.
“We never had enough evidence.”
“Never?”
“Until now.”
Something moved beneath the door.
A shadow.
I stopped breathing.
Mae turned.
A man's shoes stood outside.
Nathan.
“Leah?”
I didn't answer.
“I know you're in there.”
Mae stepped closer to the door.
Nathan said:
“Please let me talk to her.”
Mae didn't move.
“You need to leave.”
“This isn't your business.”
“It became my business when you tried to take a patient without medical authorization.”
Silence.
Then Nathan's voice changed.
“Mae.”
She stiffened.
“You don't understand what's happening.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“You don't know what my mother can do.”
“I know what she's already done.”
Another silence.
Nathan lowered his voice.
“If you keep helping Leah, you'll lose your job.”
Mae smiled bitterly.
“I've been afraid of that for seven years.”
Nathan said nothing.
Then he walked away.
His footsteps disappeared.
I looked at Mae.
“Why did he threaten you?”
“Because he's scared.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
She looked toward the door.
“Of his mother.”
At 4:30 a.m., my phone buzzed.
I hadn't realized it was still in my robe pocket.
A message appeared.
Nathan: Please answer me.
Another.
Nathan: Mom is trying to help.
Another.
Nathan: You're making everyone worry.
I stared at the screen.
Then a fourth message appeared.
Nathan: If you don't cooperate, things will get much harder.
My hands began shaking.
I showed Mae.
She read it.
“Save every message.”
“Why?”
“Because someday someone will ask what happened.”
I saved them.
Then another message arrived.
This time, from an unknown number.
You don't know who your husband is.
I stared.
Mae's face changed.
“Don't answer.”
“Who is this?”
“Don't.”
Another message appeared.
Ask him about the first baby.
I looked at Mae.
“What first baby?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“You said Rebecca's baby disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
“I told you.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You said Rebecca died.”
“Yes.”
“But what happened to her baby?”
Mae went silent.
I whispered:
“Where is that child?”
She looked at the floor.
“I don't know.”
The phone buzzed again.
He knows.
Morning came slowly.
The hospital grew louder.
Doctors.
Visitors.
Carts.
Phones.
The ordinary machinery of life.
But inside the supply room, everything felt frozen.
At 7:18, the door opened.
Mae stepped inside carrying breakfast.
She looked exhausted.
“Eat.”
“I can't.”
“You need strength.”
“I need answers.”
She sighed.
“You'll get them.”
“When?”
“When we're safe.”
I stared at her.
“Who can make us safe?”
Mae looked at me.
Then she said:
“There is someone Doreen is afraid of.”
“Who?”
“My former supervisor.”
“What's her name?”
Mae hesitated.
“Evelyn Carver.”
My blood went cold.
“Carver?”
“Yes.”
“Doreen's family?”
Mae nodded.
“She was Doreen's older sister.”
I stared.
“Where is she?”
“Dead.”
Again.
The word seemed to follow this family.
“Everyone connected to Doreen is dead.”
Mae looked at me.
“Not everyone.”
“What do you mean?”
Before she could answer, the door handle moved.
We froze.
Mae put her finger to her lips.
The lock clicked.
But the door didn't open.
Someone was using a key.
Mae's face went white.
“That isn't possible.”
“Why?”
“Only three people have that key.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
She touched her pocket.
“The head nurse.”
She shook her head.
“And the hospital administrator.”
The key turned again.
I grabbed the bassinet.
Mae stepped in front of me.
The door opened.
A man stood there.
He wore a gray suit.
No hospital badge.
No identification.
His eyes moved from Mae to me.
Then to the baby.
“Mrs. Carver.”
I didn't answer.
He smiled.
“My name is Victor Hale.”
Mae stepped forward.
“Who authorized you to enter?”
He ignored her.
He looked at my son.
“I'm here to take the child.”
My heart stopped.
“No.”
He smiled.
“You should understand that this is no longer your decision.”
Mae reached for the emergency button.
Victor caught her wrist.
He didn't hurt her.
He didn't need to.
His grip was enough.
“Don't.”
I pulled my son toward me.
“You can't take him.”
Victor looked at me.
“Your husband already agreed.”
“No.”
“He signed.”
“He doesn't own my child.”
Victor's smile disappeared.
“Perhaps.”
Then he looked toward the hallway.
“But your mother-in-law owns a great many things.”
Mae suddenly shouted:
“RUN!”
I froze.
Victor turned.
Mae kicked the door.
It slammed into his shoulder.
He stumbled backward.
“Go!”
I grabbed the bassinet.
I ran.
For the first time since giving birth, I ignored the pain.
I ran into the hallway.
A nurse screamed.
Someone dropped a tray.
I pushed the bassinet toward the elevator.
Behind me, Victor shouted:
“Stop her!”
I pressed the button.
Nothing.
The elevator doors opened.
I rushed inside.
Mae followed.
Victor reached the doors just as they began closing.
He slammed his hand between them.
The doors reopened.
I screamed.
Mae grabbed the emergency override.
The doors shut again.
The elevator began descending.
I looked at her.
“What floor?”
“Basement.”
“Why?”
“Because there is another exit.”
The elevator jolted.
Then stopped.
The lights went out.
My son's cry filled the darkness.
I held my breath.
Somewhere above us, an alarm began ringing.
Mae whispered:
“They found us.”
The emergency lights came on.
Red.
Dim.
Terrifying.
Mae pulled a key from her pocket.
“There is a maintenance corridor.”
“Can it get us outside?”
“Yes.”
We moved quickly.
My legs shook.
My incision burned.
But I kept going.
We reached a metal door.
Mae unlocked it.
Cold air rushed inside.
A narrow service tunnel stretched ahead.
I pushed the bassinet.
Then stopped.
On the wall was an old photograph.
I stared.
It showed a group of hospital administrators standing outside Briar Glen.
I recognized Doreen.
Younger.
Smiling.
Beside her stood a woman I had never seen before.
Mae came beside me.
“Evelyn.”
I looked at her.
“That's Evelyn Carver?”
“Yes.”
“Why is she in the hospital photograph?”
Mae stared at the picture.
“I told you she was Doreen's sister.”
“No.”
I pointed.
“She's holding a baby.”
Mae went pale.
The photograph had been taken twenty years earlier.
And the baby in Evelyn's arms had a small bracelet around its wrist.
I moved closer.
The bracelet had a name.
Nathan.
I turned toward Mae.
“My husband?”
Mae couldn't speak.
I stared at the photograph.
Nathan had always told me he was Doreen's only son.
But if the photograph was real...
Then there was something about his birth that no one had ever told me.
And suddenly, the anonymous message made sense.
Ask him about the first baby.
We reached the end of the tunnel.
A service door opened onto the parking garage.
Mae pushed the bassinet behind a concrete pillar.
“Stay here.”
“Where are you going?”
“To find a car.”
“What?”
“I know someone who can help.”
“Who?”
Mae looked at me.
“The woman Doreen believes has been dead for fifteen years.”
I stared at her.
“Evelyn?”
Mae nodded.
Then she disappeared into the darkness.
I held my son.
Minutes passed.
Five.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Then headlights appeared.
A black SUV entered the garage.
It stopped directly in front of me.
The rear door opened.
A woman stepped out.
She wore a white suit.
Dark glasses.
Silver ring.
I knew that face.
I'd seen it in photographs.
I'd seen it in the Carver family portrait hanging in Nathan's childhood home.
I'd seen the framed memorial plaque.
Evelyn Carver.
Beloved sister.
Daughter.
Mother.
Deceased fifteen years.
The woman removed her glasses.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Leah.”
I couldn't move.
“How do you know my name?”
She looked at my baby.
Then at me.
“Because I've been watching your family for fifteen years.”
I stared.
“Who are you?”
Her lips trembled.
“My name is Evelyn.”
She looked at the baby.
“And I'm the reason Nathan Carver was never supposed to be your husband.”
My blood ran cold.
“Why?”
She took one step closer.
“Because Nathan isn't the man you think he is.”
Behind us, footsteps echoed through the garage.
Evelyn opened the SUV door.
“Get in.”
I didn't move.
She looked toward the tunnel.
“They're coming.”
“Who?”
She whispered:
“Everyone who helped steal my first child.”
My heart stopped.
“Your first child?”
Evelyn looked at me.
Then at my son.
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“Your husband was the second.”
And somewhere behind us, Nathan's voice echoed through the garage.
“Leah!”
Evelyn grabbed my arm.
“Now you know why Mae told you never to come out.”
The footsteps were getting closer.
Evelyn pulled open the SUV door.
“Get inside.”
I climbed in with my baby.
The door slammed shut.
And as the vehicle accelerated into the darkness, I realized the locked supply room had never been a hiding place.
May you like
It had been the doorway to the truth.
And the truth was far worse than anything I had imagined.
